Fond Memories?
by Kara's Aunty
Summary: Neville ponders the character of his former Potions professor, with some help from Harry. Post DH. UK English. Canon pairings, but only peripherally.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer – Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, Warner Bros and everyone else apart from me, apparently. I have written this short story purely for my own enjoyment and will count myself lucky to get a review, let alone money for it. I am making absolutely no financial profit (or any other kind) whatsoever._

Hello and welcome!

**Fond Memories? **is a story I wrote about 3 or 4 months ago when a strange mood took hold of me and I dared my first ever piece of fan fiction.

Never having written before, I was a bit anxious, but decided to soldier bravely on and relate my wee tale.

I'd always been curious about the way Snape treated Neville and JK Rowling never really gave an explanation as to why he was such a git to him, so I decided to explore the topic myself and see if I could come up with a reasonable explanation.

So I wrote it and posted it in August, feeling quite pleased with my 'firstborn' and received some (very) kind words about it.

After that, I left it to languish on this site, thinking it complete and satisfied enough to abandon it to its fate while I carried on producing other fics.

Until yesterday.

For some reason, a feeling of nostalgia overtook me and I decided to revisit it, like an aunt revisits her favourite niece. But instead of smug satisfaction at a 'job well done', I was mortified to read through it and see the grammatical errors, sentence mis-structuring and confusing points of view scattered throughout.

And I cringed with embarrassment at having left it floating about the net for all to witness my gauche scribblings.

Ah, the benefit of experience!

Now, though, it's been polished up: I've added some things, rearranged others and eliminated the most frightening of the errors and now I present it to you anew, with a lot more humility than I posted it with originally.

If you _have_ read this before (and no doubt rolled your eyes at it) I ask that you give it another chance and hopefully enjoy my 'second' child with fresh eyes. The topic of it remains the same, but it's now had the benefit of an overhaul and with that I hope to redeem myself in your eyes.

Thanks for reading!

Kara's (rather penitent) Aunty.


	2. Fond Memories? Redeemed

_Disclaimer – Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, Warner Bros and everyone else apart from me, apparently. I have written this short story purely for my own enjoyment and will count myself lucky to get a review, let alone money for it. I am making absolutely no financial profit (or any other kind) whatsoever._

**Fond Memories?**

Neville relaxed in his armchair at the fireplace of the teacher's common room, enjoying a warm mug of hot chocolate and thankful none of his colleagues were in a talkative mood. He didn't have the energy to chat.

But then, neither did they, apparently. Everyone present was sitting quietly, reflecting on their recent adventure to the hospital wing and (probably) silently cursing the adolescents everywhere.

It had been quite a day for most of the professors. As well as their normal teaching duties, they'd had to help with the transport of well over a dozen Slytherin students to the hospital wing after an amorous Ravenclaw 4th year had slipped into their common room under a disillusionment charm and knocked them all out - albeit accidentally.

The Ravenclaw, Albert Price, had slipped in behind a prefect, concealing a (thankfully young) potted Mandrake that he'd intended to leave as a 'token of affection' on his girlfriend's bedside table. Neville rolled his eyes at the foolishness of hormonally challenged teenage boys. A potted Mandrake! Whatever happened to the classics: chocolates and flowers?

Of course, the lovestruck boy had spent so long looking for her dormitory that his disillusionment charm - fairly advanced magic even for a 4th year Ravenclaw - wore off and he was discovered skulking about the corridors by a group of angry Slytherins. And very naturally, they chased him; but the agile intruder managed to dodge all their hexes until they had him cornered in the common room, where a very unwise Stinging hex from a gloating 2nd year caused Albert to drop the potted Mandrake. The pot shattered and the Mandrake proceeded to have a similar effect on the eardrums of everyone within hearing range.

_Honestly_, thought Neville, taking a sip of his hot chocolate (an evening ritual he enjoyed very much) _are that lot blind? I don't know what's worse: One teenager who carts lethal plants about the school, or several teenagers too stupid to notice what he's holding!_

Once the teachers had been alerted to the situation - thanks to the network of portraits - he'd grabbed the snuggest earmuffs he had, a new pot and a small bag of earth then rushed to the Slytherin common room to retrieve the plant. They'd all been relieved that it had been such a young Mandrake or the students' fate would have been tragically sealed. As it was, Madam Pomfrey had her hands full trying to revive 16 students, including Albert.

Neville sighed. He'd thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be intelligent. What had the boy been thinking? How had he gotten hold of such a dangerous plant? He'd have to start thinking about warding the greenhouses if this was the kind of thing teenagers were up to these days.

How on earth had the 4th year forgotten that, as a boy, he would _not_ have access to the girls dormitories? He suspected Ravenclaw would be losing a healthy amount of points after this and that Albert would not be enjoying his previous popularity amongst his housemates - or the Slytherins - for some time to come.

The sturdy professor took another sip from his mug, _extremely_ glad his adolescent years were behind him. Remembering his own trials with spots, weight fluctuations and watching everyone else get their girl except him, was almost enough to make him sympathise with poor Albert. Almost.

Slytherin, he mused. In his day, no one would have been caught dead trying to creep into their common room. (Apart from Harry and Ron of course, as he found out a few years ago at a Weasley party - he stifled a burst of laughter at the thought of the academically gifted Hermione not realising the difference between a _cat_ hair and a _human _one - but even then it had been to glean what information they could on Salazar Slytherin's heir and not some sort of ill thought out romantic gesture).

Whenever Neville thought of Slytherin, his mind would inevitably drift to Snape. Even after all this time, he found it difficult to reflect on the former Potions professor with anything but mixed emotions. While the rest of the Wizarding world did as much as it possibly could to forget Severus Snape, Neville couldn't dismiss him as easily. After all, man had been a hero in the end, despite everything.

But for years Neville had suffered verbal and emotional abuse from the hated teacher and his final year as a student had been spent opposing Snape as the very public enemy the greasy git had been pretending to be.

He grinned as he thought of how he'd gone out of his way to make the man's tenure as Headmaster as difficult as possible: resurrecting the DA, becoming it's leader, recruiting students, teaching Defence with Luna and Ginny during the secret meetings, organising 'vandalism' of any wall large enough to hold a DA slogan, and making a stand against the Death Eater led faculty.

It had been a unique position for the formerly timid Gryffindor to have found himself in. Harry was usually the leader and he'd watched from the sidelines as the braver classmate had had all sorts of adventures. Of course, things changed for him somewhere during his own 4th year. Everything had been different ever since he'd discovered Barty Crouch Jnr had been masquerading as Mad-Eye the whole year - his parents tormenter; pretending to be his _friend_, teaching him _Unforgivables, _and no doubt laughing at his own cleverness! The _bastard_!

Neville's mug exploded when his anger rose and he had to perform a quick vanishing spell on the ruined treat, which was pooling all over the floor. His colleagues looked up in surprise and concern and he mumbled a quick excuse to shrug it off as he sat back down. Luckily, they took him at his word and left him in peace, which allowed him time to control his rampaging emotions.

_Get a grip, you idiot! _he told himself, taking a few deep breaths.

Once he'd calmed himself, he cautiously allowed his mind to revisit his younger days.

After the unpleasant revelation of Crouch's deception, Neville had become bolder, more determined to be the son his parents could be proud of: one who'd fight gits like Crouch and see them punished for taking parents from their children. He'd been at the Department of Mysteries with the others in 5th year, fought Death Eaters at Hogwarts in his 6th then mounted a school-wide rebellion in that last, terrible year.

All these things and their experiences during them had been both harrowing and invigorating for all the students. Neville himself had never felt so certain of death that year - yet he had felt so alive, so _vital_. His life at that time, though difficult, had been made easy by clear cut certainties: Snape was the enemy.

To find out he had been Dumbledore's man through and through was a shocking revelation and Neville had had trouble ever since trying to reconcile his experiences with Snape to the truths Harry Potter revealed to him.

As if summoned by this thought, the common room door opened and Harry entered, making his way over to where he sat.

"Harry! What are you doing here?" he exclaimed in surprise.

"Thanks, Nev. Nice to see you too" retorted Harry dryly.

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean it like that. I just didn't expect to see you."

Harry took a seat across from his friend, running a hand through his infamously messy hair. "Ginny's having a bad day and kicked me out because I keep 'fussing' over her and telling her to take it easy."

"She kicked you out the house?" he grinned, knowing that the red-haired witch was famous for her hot temper (and delighted _he _was married to a gentle girl like Hannah).

"Well, perhaps 'kicked' is too strong a word. I've _may_ have went overboard buying potions to help her never ending morning-sickness," replied the slightly younger man, looking sheepish.

Neville saw his mood quickly turn to exasperation as Harry shook his head. "Honestly, it should be called _all day _sickness. How was I supposed to know that she didn't want to take anything in case it 'affected the baby'? I told her she was being stupid and that potions wouldn't be available to pregnant women if they had any side effects on unborn babies. Nev, **never** tell a pregnant woman she's stupid! Ginny was _not_ pleased."

Harry looked somewhat miffed at Neville's smirk, but Neville couldn't help himself.

"Anyway," continued the irate former Gryffindor, "She insists that it's 'not so bad', that nausea's 'to be expected' and told me if I called her stupid again, she'd hex my bits off!"

Neville couldn't help laughing out loud at this - and even Harry grinned at the amusing image it presented.

"So _I_ suggested we go to St Mungo's and see if we could have it treated there, but she told me I was overreacting: that if it was really so bad her Mum would be the best person to speak to, what with having had seven children of her own. Then she wanted peace and quiet so she could have a nap and _strongly suggested_ that I 'stop dispensing useless advice' and go out for a while." Harry trailed off and looked at him hopefully before continuing.

"So I thought I'd come over here and see if you're up to a drink at the Three Broomsticks."

Neville wondered if he had the energy to move from his chair, but decided that Harry's needs were greater than his and said "Let me just get my cloak."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

They walked down to the Three Broomsticks discussing trivial, but pleasant, things such as the good weather they'd been having and whether the Germans might win the next Quidditch World Cup. Neville was grateful they managed to avoid any students who might become over-excited at the sight of the Boy-Who-Lived strolling through the grounds with their famous Herbology Professor.

_Really,_ he scoffed with some amusement. _Harry's far too old to still be getting called the BOY-Who-Lived._

"How're Ron and Hermione?" he voiced aloud.

"Great. They're at her parents tonight. It's her dad's 60th birthday and they helped arrange his party."

"Why aren't you at it?" asked Neville. "I thought you knew the Grangers and got on well with them."

"Well, I do," responded his friend. "But I'm not as close to them as I am to Molly and Arthur. I mean, it's not like I really spend any time in the Muggle world anymore, and they don't spend that much time in ours. Of course, that may change if Hermione gets pregnant, which I hope she does soon. Ron's having a right good laugh at my expense lately."

Neville grinned at the reluctant hero, but they arrived at their destination before he had time to make any further observations on the matter.

Once inside, he had Rosmerta take them to a secluded table at the back of the pub beyond prying eyes. It was bad enough when _he_ got the occasional hero worship from admirers, but he knew they'd never have peace if he sat with Harry at the front.

He took off his coat as Harry ordered the drinks (and raised his eyes when Neville ordered Firewhiskey).

"Hard day at work?" Harry asked, then laughed at the audacity of Albert and his Mandrake when Neville related the tale.

"At least it shows that inter-House relations are improving. Imagine Slytherins going out with someone from another House when we were there? It would never have happened."

"Yeah," said Neville, imagining somewhat morosely Snape's reaction to a Slytherin being romantically involved with a student from any other House.

Rosmerta arrived with their drinks and he was soon nursing the Firewhiskey as his mind drifted once more to his former nemesis.

"You alright, Nev?" He looked up to see Harry gazing at him with a little concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired. Well, not really tired, just thinking about…" he trailed off.

"…Snape." finished Harry.

"How'd you know?" he asked in surprise. He hoped Harry hadn't been using Legilimency on him, but then felt a bit ashamed of himself. Harry would never do that.

"You get this strained look on you face whenever someone mentions his name," chuckled his friend.

Neville was a bit disconcerted to hear this, but then supposed he shouldn't be. His emotions always played across his face and you didn't have to be a Legilimens to read them. He took a swallow of his drink, quite glad the fiery liquid stopped him from speaking and lost himself to his contemplations of his bat-winged nemesis.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Unknown to Neville, Harry was experiencing his own contemplative mood as he watched the Herbology professor fidget with his drink. Neville was the only person, other than himself, who would really have cause to be so conflicted about Severus. He had endured years of acid jibes and hostile treatment from the potions master, just as Harry had.

But unlike Harry, the reasons behind Snape's treatment of Neville were unclear. Of course, Snape had been an utter bastard on principle to anyone in his classes - apart from his own House. _And_ he'd hated Harry for reminding him so much of James. But why had he tormented Neville so much? Was it really because Neville wasn't adept in the subject he taught and was a Gryffindor to boot? Had it honestly been because he thought Neville weak and useless, practically a Squib in his eyes?

Or maybe… Harry had what may to some seem like an outrageous thought …did he somehow blame Neville for _not_ being the Boy-Who-Lived?

After all, if Voldemort had attacked Neville that night instead of Harry, and Alice had offered the same protection as his mother had given him, then Lily would've still been alive and Snape could've been spared years of emotional torment. He wondered how _that_ scenario would have affected Snape's position as a loyal Death Eater. Would he have stuck by Voldemort, refusing to believe him dead and waited for his Master to reappear? Or would he have remained a spy for the Order regardless of which boy had been targeted?

He sipped at his Butterbeer, lost in these fascinating - if morbid - thoughts when his companion suddenly spoke.

"He just always made me feel so stupid, so worthless," Neville said bitterly and Harry didn't doubt it was true for a second.

"I already felt like I didn't really deserve to be at Hogwarts, and he bloody well made that worse by treating me like an idiot!"

Harry saw his grip on the glass of Firewhiskey tighten.

" Then, of course, there was his infamous year as Headmaster when he allowed students to be put under the Cruciatus. _The bloody Cruciatus_! Don't get me wrong Harry: I know he was in a difficult position, that he had to maintain a certain 'front' in order to help you get a chance to finish off Voldemort. But deep down, I still think he was a vicious git."

Harry nodded in sympathy. He'd heard all about the Carrows and their 'disciplinary methods' from Ginny and could only imagine the horror Neville must have felt watching - and at times enduring - such punishments, given that his parents had been tortured into insanity with that very curse.

But he also knew his quiet friend was extraordinarily brave. Not for nothing had he been sorted into Gryffindor. He had talent and fortitude and had proven himself a force to be reckoned with long before the final year of the war, in Harry's opinion. Snape must have been beside himself knowing that two of the people he'd picked on most during his years as their teacher were giving him such incredible trouble - the very two boys the Prophecy could have referred to: Harry, running off on his Horcrux hunt and Snape worrying if the stupid boy was even up to the job, and Neville - _Neville bloody Longbottom _- causing him no end of grief at Hogwarts when _he_ should have been in complete control. He imagined Snape explaining _that_ to Voldemort and tried not to smile.

Neville sighed. "Sorry Harry. That was a bit childish. But that's really my point. When I think of him, I feel like two different people. The angry boy who doesn't understand why he treated me or anyone else with such contempt and the rational adult who knows that nobody's perfect. Snape certainly wasn't."

"I know, Nev. I know," said Harry, trying to soothe his friend and it appeared to work as Neville's grip on the glass slackened somewhat and he continued to talk in a more reasonable tone.

"But when it came right down to it, he was there for us all the time and we didn't even know it. Acting like the loyal Death Eater, but secretly spying. Taking Merlin knows what kind of treatment at Voldemort's hands. I can't even imagine how difficult it must've been for Snape to walk up to Voldemort all that time, look him in the eye and lie through his teeth. Then come back to school and act like nothing had happened."

Harry noticed there was now a touch of grudging respect in his voice.

"I admire him for that, I really do," said Neville. "And I'm grateful for all the sacrifices he made to get rid of He-Who-Should-Be-Ashamed."

Harry couldn't help it, he laughed out loud at this. " _He- Who-Should-Be-Ashamed_?"

Neville grinned. "One of the Muggleborn 1st years thought it was a better title for a megalomaniac, self-proclaimed dark 'lord' than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Not bad, eh?"

"That's great! Ron will wet himself laughing at that," Harry declared, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

"But Nev, _I_ know how you feel about Severus. I was torn about him for months after finally learning he was one of ours. On one hand, he was an insufferable git, but on the other he had the kind of bravery every Gryffindor should aspire to."

He eyed his fellow Gryffindor, already knowing what the reaction to his next words would be. "The kind of bravery _you_ have Neville."

And he was not disappointed.

"_Me_!" screeched Neville, almost dropping his glass. "Harry, don't misunderstand me, I know I'm not the little boy who's scared of his own shadow anymore. I haven't been for years. I know how to defend myself and those I love and care about. But I don't have the sort of bravery you seem to think I do, and certainly not the kind Snape had."

"You're wrong Neville. You and Severus have much in common. You both endured your own types of torture for years, never feeling that you were worth much and always trying to live up to the expectations of others. Neither of you complained about your problems and, at least in your case, always had time for others. Bravery is rarely flashy - although you rather excel at that too after challenging Voldemort and slicing up his pet snake."

Neville coloured slightly at this reminder of his heroics and Harry grinned. It obviously hadn't occurred to his friend that identifying common traits he shared with Snape might help him understand, and possibly forgive, the man. He probably hadn't realised that he and Snape had _shared_ any common traits.

Maybe in the end, he mused, it would be as easy as realising that each of them had been goaded, bullied, thought lacking in some way - and yet each of them had triumphed, both had been _good_. Harry knew Neville's issues with Snape weren't permanently resolved, but this was a place for him to start.

And Neville was apparently cheered by this revelation, as his tensed body relaxed and he nodded his thanks to him for understanding. Harry thought it was the least he could do for his friend, who'd stood by him when he needed it most.

Smiling in acknowledgement, he ordered another round of drinks and turned the conversation to more pleasant topics. "How's Hannah?'

But his 'friend' suddenly grinned back at him in a very evil manner, giving Harry a moment's pause. "Not as pregnant as Ginny."

Harry groaned in despair at the thought of his hormonally charged wife and quickly turned to Rosmerta to recant his order of Butterbeer.

"Make that _two_ Firewhiskeys!"

**THE END**


End file.
